A Beautiful Lie
by Reznya
Summary: An unlikely bunch of misfits from various backgrounds conjoin in an overwhelming pool of deception in Elizabethan England. prologue inside
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: I stared up at the massive building in front of me. A chilling gust of wind assaulted me as I made an attempt to speak to the man beside me. I looked over at him. He smiled at me with a reassuring smile in an attempt to make me feel as though everything is all right. I knew better. Nothing would ever be right again.

Present day:

I sat in the usual place in my bedroom. The news was on again.

" A man in Japan is currently holding three teachers and twenty seven students hostage. The man has yet to be identified."

I stared at the television with a bleak expression. I've heard it all. The world was so full of crime. Even here in Russia. I can't begin to comprehend what goes through the mind of a criminal. To take the life of another human, no matter how insignificant it may be. I lost my train of thought as the familiar voice of my mother boomed from downstairs.

"Reznya! It's time for dinner, sweetheart."

"Coming, mother!" I responded.

I sat down. Mother placed the food on the table. The usual. A small ham from the the barn outback. It was the only way to make money in my small village. Raise livestock. I hated it.

" Reznya, you haven't even touched your dinner. Is something the matter?" She asked. Mother was always concerned over everything ever since a chicken was stolen a week ago.

" No. I guess I'm am simply a little excited that tomorrow is my ninth birthday." I lied. I didn't care about my age I was concerned about my exams at school. I resented Russia and wanted to escape this barren wasteland of a village. In order to do that, I needed to not only get an excellent education with exceptional grades, but to make enough money for a one way ticket to freedom. I knew that the planes here had a price that seemed like you were paying an arm and a leg, but it was very cheap compared to Japan and the United States. Another reason to get away. Ten dollars in England was like three hundred dollars here. Im so sick of living like this and being poor.

"I'm not hungry. Give my dinner to father when he get's home." I said, lost in thought.

I went to my room to study. Equations, graphing, tables, all boring crap that has no use to me. Even though I was the top of my class, I got treated like an idiot like the rest of them. The gifted and talanted program was a joke. No point in bothering to study this subject. I put the book in my backpack. My clock flashed in my eyes as I bent down. It was nine thirty. At first, I thought nothing of it. Just another Sunday, wasted in this village studying for an exam that could make or break my future and my dreams. Same old same old. The sound of the door downstairs startled me. 


	2. Chapter 2

I stood up and ran to the window. Father was home. I could tell by the way he staggered that he was drunk. I could also tell that tonight was going to be another long night. My mother was already out the door, prepared for the hell she was about to go through. She was a strong willed woman. No matter what father did to her, to me, to the family itself, she always looked at the punishment we did not deserve with a closed mind. she just blocked it out, pushed the turtured memories to the farest point of her mind. I could not say the same for myself. Though he was my father, I could not still love him after all the hell we've been put through. Not the way mother did. The door downstairs opened and faint taps of off- beat footsteps echoed through the halls of the house. A rough, whethered voice arose from the eerie silence.

" Where is my damn cup of coffee? Let go of me or so help me!" Father shouted. His voice sent shivers down my spine. He did not bluff when he threatened things like that. I learned that the hard way.

" Coming right up, honey." My mother said in a very low tone, trying to to provoke any hostility. It never worked. She should know by now.

I heard the footsteps fade as she carried him into the sad excuse for a living room. One small television, an old sagging couch, and a hand carved wood bench that I had made when we first moved into the house. She set him on the couch and went in to the kitchen. The bubbling of the coffee pot was more like thunder than a simple lull.

I got up and went to my door in an attempt to get a better chance at hearing what was going on.

" I still don't have my coffee! Why don't I have my coffee yet?" His voice boomed. Like the ominous warning of thunderbefore the storm itself.

Idiot. Even the most low- life of creatures should have the common knowledge to know that the coffee would make him sick.

" Here you go, dear." She said as she handed him the cup of coffee.

" Be gone." He said.

" As you wish, dear." She said. The sound of her footsteps were a sure sign that she had made it out of that situation unscathed, but it was still going to be a long night.

The stairs creaked as she approached the top. She came in to my room.

" Reznya, I want you to stay in your room. He doesn't appear to be violent at the moment, but you and I both know that can change i an instant and I don't want to see you be beaten again. No matter what happens or what you hear, I want you to remain in your room and remain silent.

She was so serious that it scared me. My mother was usually a free- spirit. Even under conditions such as these. She must know something I don't. Something bad must be coming. I nodded to her. She walked out my door and rushed downstairs as quietly as possible.

" Where are you? Bring me to the bathroom or I'll smack you senseless!" His voice thundered.

" I'm coming, honey!" My mother replied.

I heard a grunt as she picked his sorry ass up. She carried his clearly heavier body to the bathroom.

" Now leave me." He huffed.

" As you wish."

About twelve minutes passed. I almost wished it was twelve hours.

" I am done. Get me out of here." His muffled voice broke the silence.

I heard the door open as she helped him up and out.

" Put me on the couch and get me a beer." She said in a low voice.

" But honey, if you drink another beer you will get sick again. It's best to get some rest. I'll get you a blanket." My mother said in an attempt to change the subject.

" How dare you disobey me?" The sound of a slap rang through the air. A small gasp followed with a whimper. I bottled up my urge to run downstairs to tell him off.

" Now do as you are told and get me a beer!" He shouted.

She whimpered again and began to make her way to the kitchen fridge to get a beer.

" Why are you crying? I didn't even hit you. I barely even smacked you and you DARE to cry in front of me!" He bellowed while grabbing her arm.

" I... I...I..." She stammered between sobs.

" You what?" He nearly screamed.

" I... I can't take this anymore! I am sick and tired of living like this! I'm tired of seeing you beat Reznya! I'm sick of BEING beaten! And most of all, I'm sick of YOU!" The sound of my mothers, now shrill voice, was ringing through the air and echoed through the house.

I had waited all of my life to hear those words. I prayed every night to hear them. I suddenly realized, again, why I also prayed not to hear them. He was going to kill her. Now that reality was realized. What do I do?

" I may not be perfect. I may not be a saint. I understand that. I may deserve this for all that I know, but I know something else. Reznya doesn't. She doesn't do anything to deserve this! She is innocent and how you could do this to her is beyond me! All I know is that she deserves a father and God knows that sure as hell isn't you! I'm leaving and I'm taking Reznya with me!" She said. Her voice strong and cold. Her peace and happiness had been obliterated.

" So you think your going to leave me? You, the one who came crawling to my doorstep, leave me and find someone BETTER? I'm the best you ever had and will have! If I can't have you, no one will!" His voice rose louder than any sound that could be named.

His words that left me feeling dead, cold, and lifeless inside boomed through every room in the house. The reality was what hit the haredest. He was not joking. He would hold to his words.

"God have mercy on our souls." 


	3. Chapter 3

The stairs squeeked and creaked in protest as my mother hurried up them. She was definately in a hurry, verifying any fears I had.

"Reznya! Hide! God help us he went mad! He is in the garage doing god knows what but knowing him, it is something that will devastate us far beyond I can even begin to imagine."

I opened my mouth to reply but just then a low rumble came from the garage. The door that connected the garage to the house slammed open.

"Run, hide, do something! Just don't let him catch you!" My mother bellowed.

The rumble grew. The sound of staggaring foot steps drew near. My mother ran to the door. She grabbed it and slammed it shut, the lock clicking as she let go. If what I thought was about to happen DID in fact happen, nothing could or would stop it. Fate is something that you simply can't escape. So was my fathers rage.

Mother turned to look at me. She opened her mouth to speak but I never caught the words. I simply blanked out. Then it hit. At first, everything was in slow motion. Shards of the once whole door falling to the ground, it's thud drowned out by the sound of grinding. I was so far gone that I didn't even notice that my mother was trying to push me under the bed until I was already there. I came to and realized that she was still out there. She made no attempt to hide.

Then it all went too fast. One last shard of wood plummeted to the ground. The door, no, our only protection, had just crumbled. Any hopes of survival followed.

I finally gained control of my thoughts and consciousness just in time to see his figure looming in the doorway. It was almost demonic.

" Here's Daddy." His voice, sadistic without a hint of mercy, thundered. A twisted, crooked smile appeared upon his face. 


	4. Chapter 4

As the last of the door fell to the cold floor, my vision seemed to blur. All I could really think about was that first, father was drunk with a chainsaw, blinded by rage. Two, the only thing protecting me and mother from him was a now dismanteled door. And three, mother was in the open with him in the doorway.

Father took one step. Mother stood her ground. His cold, demonic, and hard stare seemed to pierce her soul. She stared at him with eyes, dark and cold. This was no longer my mother, but a carefree, empty, souless shell of her. It made me wonder, what was going through her mind as he loomed in the entry. Had she gone mad? 


	5. Chapter 5

It all happened in a blur. In a flash, my father lunged at my mother. I took one last glance at her face. I remember it looking pale and stiff. Her eyes showing no fear or regret. She stood there and simpy accepted her fate. She made no attempt to dodge the deadly blow. Then all together it seemed time itself moved in slow motion. A sound, more ghastly and sickening than anything one could imagine. The sound of metal grinding on bones. I let out a muffled scream.

"Mother!" I screamed in vain. It was too late. She was gone.

Blood spewed. It hit me. It made my stomach turn. The pungent smell of iron tinged with the off smell of gasoline.

"Die bitch! You fucking whore! Bleed!" My father bellowed. His cold, maniac laughter ringing. Surely he had gone mad. Drunken rage and hate overflowing him.

It then occured to me that I should run while I still could. My scream gave off my location. It pained me to leave my mother, but it was too late for her and it was her wish for me to leave and hide, anyways.

I gathered up my courage and ran. Ran like I never had before. I simply focused on running. Running and living. My father reamained occupied with my mother... I risked a glance back. I saw him covered in blood. My mother on the ground. Her body writhing and twitching. Her eyes appearing glazed over, gazing into my soul. She mouthed one simple word. Run. Then she began a fit of coughing up blood. That was the last time I had seen her alive...

I frantically began searching the deepest parts of my mind to find a place to hide. It took only a second. The furnace. I crawled through the small opening.

I waited for was seemed like an eternity. I heard the low rumble of the chainsaw above. I took advantage of this time to think over my options. I could run from the house, but no one would help. Our naighbors were as cold as the relentless winters. I then focused my attention to the phone lying on its reciever on the table. Surely he couldn't have severed the phone jacks. I listened for the droning of the saw. It was still there. I made my move.

In a swift dash, I made my way to the phone. I dialed the numbers so quickly it seemed to all be one in one movement. The sweet reassurance on the other end made me tear up a bit.

" What is your emergency?" Asked a distant voice. I explained everything staggeringly quickly.

I hung up the phone with a quiet click. I listened carefully. The chainsaw was nearly inaudalbe. I decided he had finished his business with Mother... I quickly ducked back into the furnace as the stairs made a creak. He was on his way to finish his businness. He was coming for me. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are you, brat? I know you're hiding. Come out and give daddy a fucking hug!" He arrogantly bellowed.

A strange feeling overcame me. Fear? No. Rage? Maybe. No. What overcame me was adrenaline. Excitement. Why was I feeling this? Whats wrong with me? I should be afraid... maybe even angry... but no. I felt excitement.

He made his way into the kitchen. I heard crashing and banging as he searched the crevases for me. Every nook and cranny. The smashing made its way to the livingroom. The room which held the furnace. I tried my best to squish myself to the wall. To make myself as unnoticeable as possible. I hoped the police would come soon. I wasn't so sure I'd last much longer.

"Where are you?" He said, in a now somehow calm, yet agitated voice. " You know your father is going to find you. You don't want to make me angry at you, do you?" No. I didn't. However I knew it didn't matter either way. Whether he was personally angry at me or not, his intentions were clear.

He pushed the small, worn out couch onto its side. Then he came upon an old family photo. He picked it up. He didn't even look at it before he hummed it in my direction. That was it. At that moment, even drunk as a skunk, he figured me out. Staring at the opening I was peeking out, he must have caught a glimpse of my long blonde hair. He smirked an evil, dark, demonic smirk. He started to stagger to me. I cringed.

" I found you, you little bitch! I told you not to piss me off. Now your're going to be punished like your Mother." The bastard crooned. He reached his hand into the opening and tried to grab me. I tried my best to pull away.

" Come here you litt-" He began before I cut him off. He had grabbed a lock of my hair. In a desperate attempt to free myself, I bit his blood soaked hand. He let out a howl of pain.

" You goddamn bitch! You get the hell out of there or I'll burn you out!

I made no movement. I finally got the courage to say what I had always wanted to say to him.

" Go to hell!" I screamed with all my heart and soul. I said what my mother should have years ago while she still could have. What I wanted to for years.

" Why you little..." He said as he reached for the furnace starter.

If for only a moment, my heart seemed to stop. My life flashed before my eyes. 


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of sirens rang in the distance. His gaze went from me to the window. His hand pulled from the starter as the sound drew near. His hate- filled face was replaced by one which was filled with horror. My heart began to beat again as a drew a breath in.

"No..." He said, at first quietly. Then he got loud. "No no no no!" He bellowed louder than ever. The police banged on the door.

" Open the door!" They called. My father remained unmoving. They proceded to kick the door down.

"Freeze! Drop your weapon!" They commanded. My father did not comply. Instead, he raised it. Right to his own neck. The events that followed will have been burned into my mind for all of an eternity.

They repeated the command. "Freeze! Drop your weapon!"

" You'll never take me alive!" He yelled. His expression became that of someone who had truly gone mad.

Before the police had a chance to react, he plunged the sharp- toothed saw into his neck. He let out a blood curtling sound. His head fell the the ground with a thud. Yes, I did see this with my own eyes. Blood filled the air. The police turned away. Some gagged. Others simply said a silent " Dear god" and proceded to give orders to others. An ambulance was called. I somehow seemed to lose myself in the moment. I crawled out of the small opening. I walked towards my fathers body. I stared at it. I felt no sadness. I felt only hate. I hated him. I always wanted him to die, but somehow I was unsatisfied. Then I must have caught the attention of the police. They whispered and pointed at me. I was blood soaked. One came over to me.

" Young lady, you must leave this house. Our medics will check you over. Come along." He tried to sound sympathetic and caring. I didn't care. I still had something I had to do. I pulled away. He simply looked back and shook his head. They followed me with their gaze. I walked to my father corpseless head. I attempted to read his gaze. It had the same expression of madness. He had no regrets as to what he had did. I clenched my fists and kicked it. I kicked his stupid head. It gave me great pleasure to do so.

One of the policemen yelled at me. " Hey!" The others stopped him and told him to let it go. I've been through hell. Through hell, huh? They had no idea. They didn't care to. They simply didn't want to.

I made my way up the creaky stairs. Blood had already began trickeling down the stairs. I only had one main focus: See Mother.

I knew to expect the worst, but I never could have imagined the awful sight before me. My beloved Mother. The one who protected me, who loved me, who had taken care of me from the start, lay before me. She split in two. I felt myself gag. Her eyes were still towards me. She was not moving anymore. Her eyes were glazed over. She somehow looked at peace. I walked towards her and stroked her cheek.

" Goodbye mother." I said, fighting the tears. " I love you." I closed her once bright and shining eyes. I wiped the blood from her mouth. She looked indginified left like that. I looked at her face closer. She was... smiling? Yes, smiling. She was free.

"The police came upstairs. Instantly, I was greeted with a "Jesus" as they looked at the remains of my mother.

A man came in and picked me up. He brought me outside. I was checked over by Russia's finest. I was free of damage, as far as they could tell. I watched the men bring out my fathers body. I hoped that he was rotting in the deepest depths of hell. Then came out my mother. Rather, what was left of her. I finally felt myself give in. I let out a wail of sorrow and pain. Not physical pain. No, this was from deep inside me. I tried to run over to her, but they stopped me. I couldn't bear to see her like this. They picked me up and exchanged glances. They then told me that I must be brought to the medical center to be checked over more thoroughly. That was the conclusion to my Sunday night. To the end of my family. 


	8. Chapter 8

Months passed. I had been processed and seen by countless doctors and therapists alike. I refused to say anything. I had nothing left to say. That night was as vivid as the day was long, yet it was all a blur in my mind. Today I was supposed to be seen by some high- brow therapist who thinks he can "help me". As one can probrobly imagine, I was not happy. I was sitting in a room of white awaiting my name to be called. A gaurd was stationed at each door. It looked like the asylums I had only seem in movies. Maybe I was crazy.

"Ms. Reznya Rokitskaia?" A voice behind the big white door said cheerfully, jolting me away from my thoughts.

I didn't say a word. I simply got up and reluctantly made my way to the door. I came face to face with a smiling man. His hair was short and bleach blonde. His face was clean- shaven. His outfit was pure white, almost blinding. He led me down a long hall into a small white room. I bit my lip and frowned.

" Now Ms. Reznya, I have gone through your personal files and health records. I know that you are a very intellegent girl. I realize you have recently undergone a traumatic experience. Could you tell me about it?" I said, with a caring voice.

I stared at him with a bleak experession. Why do you want to know so bad? Why do you care? No one cared before. Not until it was too late. The hell with them! Just try to make me talk. I shall spit in your face.

" Now Ms. Reznya, you have such a deep scowl on your face. If you keep giving me such a look like that, your face may freeze! Now wouldn't that be such a sight?" He chuckled.

I felt my face turning red. How dare he embarass me in such a way? I felt anger flushing, but I simply kept my mouth shut and counted to ten.

" Well, I can see you wish to be stubborn right now. I don't blame you. After all, I am a stranger in this odd looking place, right? Is there anything I can do to make your time here more pleasant so maybe you could at least tell me about yourself?" He crooned.

If you looked at my files, then obviously you knew plently of me. I geuss I could at least ask for a drink. I was quite parched after the long trip. I wasn't quite sure where I was anymore. I pointed to the watercooler in the corner. He smiled, apparently quite pleased I was at least responding to his questions.

"Why of course. Anything else I can do for you? Are you hungry? Tired?" He said. I nodded. I picked up his pen and searched for a piece of paper.

" Oh? I see. I'll fetch you some paper. one moment. Please remain here until I get back." He said as he handed me a cup of ice cold water. I took this time to weigh in on my options. I was a nine year old in Russia... or at least, I thought it was Russia. It would most likely be in my best interests to figure out my place of position. I needed to tolerate this mans overbearing cheerfulness a bit longer. Surely this nonesense would lead to something. The doorknob turned. The man entered the room once more, with him a heft stack of paper. He places the pile on the tabe in front of me. Without hesitation, I took a piece. I began drawing.

"Hmmm..." He said, making sure I knew he was watching. " What is it you are drawing, Reznya?"

I said nothing. Wait a damn second and you'll see. I finally finished drawing the lines.

" Oh. Splendid! Well done." He enthused. You're overplaying it, you know.

" It's a lovely house. Is it yours?" He asked.

I nodded.

" I see. And is that your mother?"

I nodded again.

" So that must be your father. Why did you draw him with such an expression as that?"

My face went blank and my eyes sank low.

" I see. And that lovely smiling girl in the middle must be you."

I might have smiled, if I had remembered how to.

" Now Reznya, I don't want to pressure you, but could you tell me about your mother?" He sounded a little forceful now. Perhaps irritated I had refused to talk since my arrival.

I shook my head. I didn't want to, and no amount of force would make me.

He let out a deep sigh. He then walked out of the room. I saw him through the small window talking to some men. Then he was gone. Another man in white came in. He looked a lot bigger. His muscles showing through his shirt. He had a look of mean. He had reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes. He reminded me of someone...


	9. Chapter 9

The cold faced man glanced at me with no compassion. I returned his glare.

" Put down the pencil. No more drawing. Play time is over." He growled.

I obeyed this beastly man. He was overpowering in force, just from the rumble of his voice.

" Now tell me the information that I request. No more chlidish stubborness. Don't make me repeat myself." He snarled. I wanted to rebel by instinct, but I somehow knew better. This man had no compassion.

" Your name. Tell me." He demanded.

" Reznya Rokitskaia." I said, quietly and without emotion.

" Good. Now tell me your mothers name." He said, slightly less agitated.

I hesitated. My mothers name was on her record. Why did I need to speak it?

"Faith Tei Rokitskaia." I heard myself say.

" Fathers name. Tell me." He barked.

I remained silent. I didn't really know my father, aside from the beatings. I never got to know him. I didn't care to. All he demanded was that I call him Father and nothing else.

" I'll say it only once more. Tell me your fathers name." He hissed.

" I don't know." I said quietly. Truth was, I didn't.

" Bullshit." He picked up the cup I was given by the smiling man and threw it at the wall. Pieces shattered. The wall had a decent dent. The man huffed in fury and sat back down. His peircing glare penetrated my soul.

" I don't know his name." I repeated, expecting the same reaction. " I never knew my father well. He simply had me call him Father. Thats all I know for his name." I explained, expecting the next bout of fury to be unleashed upon me. Instead, the man stared at me, perhaps analyzing me to see if I was lying or not. He must have figured it out because he simply sighed and moved on to the next question.

" Describe your mother." He said through that glare.

It pained me to think of her. All I could see was her pale face, blood soaked hair, and glazed over eyes peircing my soul.

" Hurry up." He snarled.

" My mother..." I mumbled.

" Speak up!"

" My mother had long silky blonde hair, shiny and vibrant blue eyes, and was always there for me. She protected me the best she could since I can remember. She was the only person in my life to show me love." I blurted. I felt tears begin to well.

The man remained unemotional. What a monster.

" Tell me of your father." He demanded.

How dare he? To ask me that is to ask me to kiss the ass of a thousand diseased mules!

"My father?" I asked, asserting my rage.

"Yes. Your father." He said, seeming to get a kick out of my short temper.

" My father is a drunken, heartless bastard who deserves to rot in the deepest depths of Hell!" I shouted. I wanted to scream. I felt an uncontrollable rage overcoming me.

"I see." He said dryly. " Now tell me what happened that night."

I was dumbfounded. There was no way I would, or rather could explain what happened. Surely the coroners would tell him. Why did he need to know, anyways? Whats my pain to him?

" Don't make me ask again. What happened that night?"

" You really want to know?" I nearly shouted. " My father came home drunk and beat us. Then he took a chainsaw and cut her in two before my eyes. I barely made it out and hid in the furnace. He was going to burn me alive but the police came and he plunged the gore covered saw into his own neck, once again, before my eyes and ended his life. I watched his head fall to the ground. Are you fucking happy now?" I bellowed, certain the whole world could hear my testimony.

" No." He replied. One cold word.

Then without warning, he got up and left the room. Two more men in white came in and led me to the lobby. I sat there. The smiling man was next to me. I saw him writing something on paperwork. " PROCESSED". I was processed... I didn't know what that intailed, but I didnt care to find out.

" Whats happening?" I felt myself ask.

"Oh? I see you decided to come around. Such a lovely voice! Anyways, I am finishing up some important paperwork on you. No need to worry. Everything will be fine." He said, more cheerful than ever.

I stared bleakly at the paperwork. He must have noticed.

" As a matter of fact, I'm setting up a place for you to stay temporaraly until someone decides to give you a permanent home." He said, in an attempt to sound reassuring perhaps.

" I see..." I said, trailing off. I was tired. I wished he would hurry up so I could sleep.

I stared at the clock for a few hours. 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, I thought it would never end. Finally, at 6:27pm, the man stood and held his hand out to me, grinning. I geuss it was time to go home...

I recalled falling asleep in a small black carraige. The lull of the rain must have soothed me into a somehow tranquil slumber. A bump jolted me awake. I took in a deep breathe as a sat up and stretched. The air was fresh and crisp. I looked out the window. We were drawing near to an enormous dark shadow of a building looming in the distance. The chariot drew nearer and nearer. Then stopped all together. The smiley man opended to door and stepped out. He held his hand out to help me. I stepped down and took a moment to take everything in.

I stared up at the massive building in front of me. A chilling gust of wind assaulted me as I made an attempt to speak to the man beside me. I looked over at him. He smiled at me with a reassuring smile in an attempt to make me feel as though everything is all right. I knew better. Nothing would ever be right again. 


End file.
